(Actually, my day started with a “what the fark am I going to blog?” panic at 6.30am. I was poised to post a “sorry, I’m speechless” message when I got inspired by the pretty sunrise. It’s funny how the posts you dash off in 10 minutes can be among your most popular, while the ones you slave over for hours wither and die. Go figure.)

Then I went in search of brekkie and spied some leftover pork noodles in the fridge. A little voice in my head insisted they were “lunchtime food” but I ignored it and chucked the box of stir-fried loveliness in the microwave.

As I scoffed the noodles I wrote my second story of the day … and discovered I’m an awesome multi-tasker: I can simultaneously write about David Campbell’s Star Wars themed birthday party for his son, eat noodles and play fetch with the dog.

The youngest discovered Facetime on her mini iPad over the weekend and is quite delighted by it.

I can’t say I was thrilled to see myself on my phone screen with cockatoo hair, no make-up and flannelette jammies.

I was even less thrilled when the youngest handed her mini iPad to her dad so he could say hi too.

While he saw me with cockatoo hair, no make-up and flannelette jammies every morning for around 20 years, it’s DIFFERENT now.

Since I got thrown over, I’ve been trying to rock a never-looked-better vibe. (There is NO truth to the rumour that this artifice extends to leaving the washing basket in the hallway with lots of strategically placed sexy lace undies on top when the ex comes to pick the kids up on Sunday mornings.)

When I finished, I was feeling peckish … and realised I’d made a foolish mistake by eating my lunch for brekkie. Bummer. I’m not a cheese sandwich kind of gal, so it was a push-the-panic-button moment.

My grumbling tummy forced me out of my jammies, into the shower, then into a pair of trakkie daks (it’s was a public holiday, after all) so I could drive to the shops in search of victuals.

I was planning on takeaway but I thought, bugger it, I’ll eat my curry in the food court while I trawl through Facebook for story leads for a change of scenery.

It would help if my dog understood the rules of fetch, especially the important one where you return the ball to your owner’s feet so they can throw it again. Charlie prefers to drop the ball around three metres away and bark at me with increasing intensity until I get up and do a human version of fetch.

Bloody dog.

Finally, I couldn’t resist writing a little something about the Redhead Days festival in Chicago. And I asked readers to share pictures of their titian cuties on Kidspot’s Facebook page. They responded in droves. Nawww.

My head was starting to ache at that point – too many words – so I called it a day and headed off for suburban Chinese with DD.

We ordered poorly from an incredibly dour waiter, but I’ve never met a suburban Chinese meal I didn’t fancy reheated for brekkie the next day, so I got a doggie bag and tottered home to bed.

And there you have it: a day in the life of House working from home.

Have you ever worked from home? Did you get out of your pjs before lunchtime?

Yes, I work from home (when I have work). I get dressed. Especially since I do the school run before I go to my desk. But when I was freelancing from home at various times in my pre-child days, if I was really busy on deadline with multiple projects I would just stay in my PJs (too busy to get dressed!) eat at my desk and somedays I would work into the night like that. Crazy. When I was freelancing from Albury-Wodonga and had nowhere to go except Bakers Delight, I’d work in my trackies. I like the sound of your day yesterday and your food choices.